


Angels We Have Heard On High

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: Greg is dreading going in to the 221B Christmas Eve get-together. He finds one last excuse to delay running into the man he's been avoiding - but you never know who's listening...





	Angels We Have Heard On High

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mottlemoth and egmon73 on Tumblr for organising the Mystrade Advent and to moth for giving this a quick once-over for me!

Greg reached for 221B's door knocker - and paused for a good ten seconds with his hand hovering in mid-air.

The knocker had a bright red bow on it as part of the Christmas decorations - and it was hanging straight down.

Not squint.

Which meant Mycroft was here.

 _Fuck_.

He'd been praying all the way over that the usual animosity between the Holmes brothers hadn't had a Christmas Eve truce but no, he couldn't be that lucky.

He took a deep breath, grabbed the handle and knocked three times. For long moments there was no sign he'd been heard but, just as he was about to bottle it completely, turn tail and flee, he heard the clatter of feet down the stairs and along the hall, followed by the sliding of locks and bolts.

The door swung open sharply to reveal a flushed John Watson.

"Greg! Good to see you mate. Sorry for the delay - trying to do nineteen things at once. You know how it is!" he said breathlessly.

"Yeah, of course," Greg replied. "Good to see you too, John. Sorry I'm a bit late."

He followed John inside and closed the door behind him.

"No problem at all. Held up at work?"

Greg hung up his overcoat and scarf in the hall. "Yeah. Always the same when you're trying to get away for something, isn't it?"

Greg was glad John had already turned away - lying to the back of his head was much easier.

John gave him a running commentary of recent events as Greg followed him up the stairs to the first floor.

"I was just getting Mrs Hudson and Molly some more wine but then the timer went on the sausage rolls so I had to take them out..." John turned and spoke back to him as they rounded the landing. "And Mycroft asked for a glass of some single malt whisky I didn't even know we _had_."

Greg's stomach flipped for a moment at the mention of Mycroft.

Definitely here then. _Bugger_.

"Sherlock seems very reluctant to give him any," John continued. "So it must be good stuff."

Greg swallowed thickly and braced himself as they reached the door to the living room...

There was a distant wail from upstairs. John's head snapped round but Greg was quicker.

"Rosie, yeah? I'll go check on her, mate. You carry on with the drinks. Mine's a lager, ta." Greg was already backing up the stairs as he spoke.

John hesitated but then gave him a relieved nod and carried on into the living room.

Greg caught a glimpse of Mrs Hudson sitting in Sherlock's chair and behind her, by the fireplace, the left arm of a bespoke three piece suit was visible. He turned and walked a little quicker than was necessary up to the top floor.

He slowly pushed the bedroom door open and peered round it. "Rosie?"

Rosie was standing in her crib, bouncing up and down on chubby legs; one fist grasping the rail, the other shoved into her mouth.

Greg stepped in and closed the door behind him with a relieved sigh.

She beamed and held both hands out to him as he approached. "'Eg!"

"Yeah, that's me - Uncle 'Eg. Hello, gorgeous."

He lifted her up and tucked her into the crook of his left arm. She patted his face with a tiny, soggy palm. "'Eg."

"Thanks for that. Shouldn't you be asleep? Or are you waiting up for Santa?"

"'Eg," Rosie replied, very solemnly.

"Got to admit, Rosie, your Uncle 'Eg is feeling a bit scrambled right now, to be honest."

Greg gently bounced Rosie on his hip as he strolled round the room with her.

"I have a confession to make. I did want to come up and see you, but really I'm putting off going downstairs and bumping into your Uncle Mycroft. I've been avoiding him as much as possible for ages. Sat in my office for about twenty minutes before I got up the nerve to come over and I only did that by half-convincing myself he wouldn't be here."

There was a beautiful rocking chair by the window. Greg stopped pacing and looked down at it. It looked very inviting but...

"What do you reckon?" he asked Rosie. "Keep walking about or are you going to let an old man sit down for a bit?"

"'It," decided Rosie.

"Good choice." Greg sat down and leaned back, moving Rosie from his hip to his lap. Rosie snuggled into his chest and stuck her fist back in her mouth, quietly sucking on it as Greg rocked them back and forth and continued his soliloquy.

"It's not because I don't like him - just the opposite in fact - but it's more than a bit embarrassing to be having a crush at my age. Thought it might get better over time but it just seems to get worse whenever I see him."

Rosie's breathing was a gentle constant against his shirt front now.

"Trust me to go and fall stupidly in love with one of the most prim and proper men on the planet. I don't even wear matching socks most days.…" 

 

John carefully carried two large glasses of red wine through from the kitchen and handed one to Mrs Hudson - "Thank you, dear" - and the other to Molly.

"Thanks, John. Was that Greg at the door?" Molly asked.

"Yeah, he's just gone up to check on Rosie. She was grumping a bit. I'm sure he'll be back down in a minute."

"Oh, that reminds me - here's your present, John!" Molly reached into a large bag of gifts and handed one over to him. "You can open it now!"

John unwrapped it and opened the plain cardboard box inside to reveal a white plastic cylinder, decorated with yellow daisies. One side had a pattern of small holes in it and there was an on/off button and a dial on the opposite side.

"It's a baby monitor!" John realised. "Or the speaker for one anyway - where's the other half?"

"I sneaked up and put it in Rosie's room earlier when you were putting the sausage rolls in," Molly explained. "It's all set up and ready to go. Give it a try!"

John pressed the button, there was a short static crackle and Greg's disembodied voice started emanating from the small speaker.

"...nd I know it's just your Uncle Greg being stupid - yeah, yeah, 'no change there then' - but I'm not even one hundred percent certain he's into blokes. I mean I think he is, I'm fairly certain, but imagine if I got it wrong - I'd never be able to look him in the face again!"

"Oh," Molly said sheepishly. "Maybe we should…"

"No, no, this is an _excellent_ opportunity to test the range and clarity," Sherlock snatched the monitor from John's hand and darted out of reach.

He turned the volume up so everyone heard Greg's large sigh. "Still, for all those famous Holmes brains, he's not noticed me pining so far, so maybe I can get away with it one more time, eh?"

John, Molly and Mrs Hudson suddenly couldn't decide which of the two Holmes brothers present they wanted to look at. Sherlock was smiling smugly - as if hearing something he already knew - and Mycroft had a very unfamiliar puzzled air about him.

Greg's voice got louder as he moved closer to the monitor. "There's a girl. I better put you back and get down there to face the music. With any luck he'll be too busy glaring daggers at Sherlock and I can hide in the kitchen or something. Night night, Rosie."

Three heads whipped round to stare definitively at Mycroft who was displaying - for him - extreme surprise through the medium of a slightly raised eyebrow.

John finally broke the awkward silence but he'd only got as far as "Wh--" when Greg appeared at the door, bouncing cheerfully into the room…

 

"Hey everybody. I just popped up to say hello to Rosie before I…"

Greg trailed off as he realised everyone had turned to stare at him a little harder than he'd expected. He glanced down to see if Rosie had deposited something on his shirt front he was unaware of…. nope.

Something in the atmosphere was off; he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Sherlock bounded over, sporting a large smile - never a good sign - and slung an arm around Greg's shoulders.

"Hello, Greg."

Getting his name right - another warning bell sounded.

" _Do_ come in. Molly was just showing us this excellent baby monitor she's given John for Christmas. You can hear _everything_ in the upstairs bedroom as clear as day." Sherlock's grin was threatening to split his face now.

Greg looked down in horror at the traitorous lump of brightly coloured plastic in Sherlock's hand as his stomach contents turned to ice water.

 _Ohhhhh_ …. He bit down hard on the "F..." that almost escaped his lips.

"Would you all please excuse us a minute?" Mycroft suddenly shot forward from his position by the fireplace, grabbed Greg by the elbow and had propelled him into the hall and closed the door behind them before Greg could even draw breath.

Greg felt his heart drop to his boots and he was sure his face was on fire. "Ohhhh _Christ_ … I'm, I'm sorry, Mycroft. I'm so sorry," he stammered.

"Lestrade…"

"I had _no_ idea you could hear all that."

"Lestrade…"

"God, I've _totally_ fucked things up. I just--"

Mycroft gave up trying to verbally interrupt him and took the more direct route of putting his fingertips to Greg's lips and giving him an order in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "Greg. _Breathe_."

Greg, stunned into obedience by the use of his first name, took a deep shuddering breath in through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth.

Mycroft removed his fingers and before Greg could speak again, replaced them briefly with his lips; the gentlest brush of skin on skin.

Greg forgot how to breathe altogether.

"I appreciate the embarrassment you must be feeling now but I cannot say I am sorry for what it has brought to my attention," Mycroft told him.

"You…"

"I am however, deeply sorry that it took this incident to make me aware of your regard."

"You…"

"I have always found you to be a very attractive man but assumed you would be uninterested in an uninteresting civil servant - and Sherlock's brother to boot."

"You _kissed_ me." Greg's brain suddenly kicked back into motion.

"Yes. Would you mind if I did it again?" Mycroft asked him.

"God no."

Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft and pulled him close. Their bodies fitted together as if made for each other.

This time there was nothing gentle or chaste about it. Mycroft seemed to take Greg's initial power grab as a personal challenge and came in all guns blazing. Greg had never felt so thoroughly kissed in his entire life. He found himself backed up against the wall, breathless, dizzy and more than a little aroused.

They were interrupted by a distant wail from upstairs. It was followed by a noise from the living room suspiciously like a grown man moving towards the door and being held back by three other people.

"Hark the herald angel…" Mycroft muttered.

Greg grinned against his lips. "I should go up and say thank you to her - and tell her what a fantastic kisser you are."

"You may wish to disable the baby monitor in that case - it's clearly still active."

"I'm counting on it. Tell me later exactly what face Sherlock makes when he hears me say that, will you?"

Mycroft gave Greg the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on the man. "It would be my most sincere pleasure."

"Thought it might."

"Perhaps," Mycroft suggested, "I can relate it in detail while giving you a lift home?"

"Umm, yeah. That would be lovely…"

There was another cry from above and the sounds of a more insistent struggle from within.

They reluctantly broke apart.

"You go stop John breaking the door down, I'll go see to young Miss Watson," Greg said.

Mycroft nodded, smoothed his hair, straightened his tie and grasped the handle of the living room door, all business once again.

"Mycroft?" Greg stopped him just before he turned it.

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

Mycroft smiled softly again. "And to you, Greg."

Then he wiped the smile from his face and imperiously swept back into the living room.

Greg skipped up the stairs into the bedroom.

"'Eg!"

"Hello again, Rosie! Uncle Eg's got something very important to tell you…"


End file.
